Fair Maiden Page 7

  Fool!

  He had to find some way to right it, some way to soothe the sweet spirit within his home.

  What he’d witnessed the other night was simply too much to bear. She was so devastated. So frightened. So gentle and undeserving of such savage treatment from whomever did this to her. The assailant would pay, he vowed to himself, even if it was the last thing he did, even if desecrating the grave of the killer was the only way to do it.

  Now, he pondered, pacing his bedchamber, how to find it….

  “Lord Krestly?”

  Christian set down his fountain pen and pushed aside the ledger as he leaned back in his chair. “Yes, Jackson. What is it?”

  The old butler entered his study carrying tea for more than just one. “Mr. Leeraby, has returned.”

  Brilliant, it’s about time. “Let him enter.”

  Jackson tossed a glance over his shoulder and Leeraby followed the elderly gentleman into the room.

  Motioning for the man to sit across the desk from him, Christian grinned, hoping this would be a response from his father concerning this ridiculous delay in gaining his allowance. He’d sent along another missive to beseech his sire into possibly adjusting this requirement.

  Jackson settled the tray between them, and began pouring out. “Sugar?” he asked Leeraby.

  “Three lumps, if you will.”

  There was a plopping sound as his butler dropped the cubes into the man’s tea.

  “My lord?” Jackson asked, turning to Christian.

  “Two, thank you.”

  Jackson nodded, added the requested sugar into Christian’s cup and then exited the room drawing the doors closed behind him.

  With a sigh, Christian attempted to prompt the man to get on with it since he’d done nothing more than stir his tea. Silently. For several moments.

  And when that failed to get a response, he cleared his throat loudly.

  That worked. “Well…” Leeraby began, setting his spoon onto the plate beside his teacup, “Your father got your message and he was not pleased, I’m afraid.”

  The solicitor’s eyebrows lifted when Christian bit out a curse.

  “He feels quite strongly about this, Lord Krestly.”

  “There must be something I can do to please him. I simply cannot get married so hastily.”

  Leeraby sipped at his drink, frowned and then added another lump of sugar. “He said his wishes were clear: Get married and you will gain the first portion.”

  “Would my attendance at the parties appease him?” Christian bargained.

  With lips curling into a smirk, Mr. Leeraby said, “Your mother would be quite delighted with that, and I may be able to persuade her into persuading your father into giving you an,” the man took a breath, “advance, especially after such a fine showing of effort on your part.”

  “Then when is the next soirée?” Christian reached for the pile of invitations Jackson had restacked on the corner of the desk. He sifted through them and then said, “Ah, this weekend at the Wimple’s. I shall attend.”

  “Very good, very good. They put on a fine ball. I should be bringing you a check within the next week.”

  “Perfect,” hoped Christian, but inwardly he was cursing it was a ball and not just a dinner party. He detested those things. The dancing did not really trouble him. He could spin a girl around the dance floor as well as anyone. Again, it was the people that grated on his patience. But if this got him enough money to drag this out a bit longer, then he would grit his teeth and bear it.

  Leeraby left, and Christian went to check on her. She’d not shown herself since last night. This troubled him. Approaching the wall where her door was, he knocked on the cold, solid stone. “Lady Ghost, are you there?”

  After several moments she did not answer.

  “Princess, please, forgive me for last night.” He set his forehead against the wall and sighed. “I beg you.”

  He waited, rapped on the unforgiving rock another time, then leaned away and examined his knuckles which were turning red. “Darling, can you hear me?” he called again, louder this time.

  Then he heard an odd squeak behind him. After one glance over his shoulder, he groaned and turned around to face the maid. “Well, hello, Miss Ann, how are you?” Brilliant, he’d been caught talking to no one else but air and stone.

  She curtsied as her eyes shifted from him to the blank wall and back to him. “I-I’m fine, my lord.” She leaned to the side, probably trying to see what had him so enthralled, but there was nothing there to see. “Is something amiss? Is there anything you need, Lord Krestly?”

  “No thank you. Be on your way,” he said gently.

  “Yes, sir.” She dipped into another quick curtsy and then scurried away as though he were a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

  No doubt, there could be some truth to that, he thought as he dropped his shoulder blades against the wall and slid down it to his rump. “Princess, open the door. Please,” he whispered.

  Suddenly, after a soft clicking sound, he fell backward as the wall vanished from behind him.

  Flat on his back, he looked up to see her looking down at him. Her honeyed tresses created a curtain of gold around her face. She was not smiling.

  “Are-are you all right?” he asked.

  Again, she spoke not a single word as she righted herself and moved into her chamber.

  Christian pushed himself up from the floor and followed. “Thank you for opening the door.”

  Still she did not answer. She simply gazed out the window as if he were not truly there. She was situated in a seated pose on the windowsill, the skirt of her golden dress billowed to the floor like a waterfall of precious metal and her hands were folded in her lap. He watched as the wind caught her hair, ribbons and veil and toyed with them. Then wondered how that was possible, but then again, it did frequently appear as though a breeze stirred about her whether there was a draft available or not.

  He strode to her and spoke. “What might I do to help? How may I comfort you?”

  “There is naught you can do for me.” She looked at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I am dead.” Then she returned her attention to the view.

  Christian sighed, and then settled onto the floor below the window. He crossed his arms over his bent knees. “There must be something.” He paused to consider that, then said, “I enjoy your company. Have you, too, enjoyed our conversations?”

  “I have,” she said softly, now looking down at him.

  “Then let us continue as we have.”

  Silently she considered him, and when he tossed a big grin and a wink her way, she smiled and attempted to mask a giggle behind her hand.

  Pushing to his feet, he moved closer and seated himself on the sill next to her. “’Tis a fine view, is it not?”

  “It is lovely. Do you know your lands? Do you know who dwells within the forest?”

  “That I do not,” he admitted. “I haven’t been here long enough to explore it. Shall we go riding today, and see what there is?”

  Her emerald eyes brightened. “Yes, please.”

  Again, like a fool, he tried to take her hand into his. She pouted as his fingers passed through hers, and, hoping to distract her, he asked, “Should we take two horses or one?”

  “I do not think I can ride.”

  “Then we take one.”

  Christian requested his horse be prepared and then invited her to sit with him when it was.

  He gingerly wrapped his arms about her slim waist as he took the reins. “Shall we see who lives within the woods?”

  “Do you own that land?”

  “I don’t know for certain.”

  He edged his horse toward the fringe of trees skirting the grassy hill. With her seated in front of him, her head kept bobbing up within his line of sight, but it did not matter, for he could see through her.

  As they neared the trees, his curiosity and sense of adventure grew, and he kicked his horse into a gentle gallop. />
  It was pure instinct, when Prince began its decent down the steep slope, for Christian to slip his arm tightly around her waist, but he encountered nothing more than electricity and warmth.

  They had neared the bottom when, unexpectedly, she slid right though him and he experience a wave of heat from front to back. He realized that he’d found the barrier she’d mentioned before.

  He yanked on the reins, and his sudden movement startled the horse causing it to rear. “Whoa!” Christian shouted as he lost his seat and fell to his rump on the ground with a grunt. “Whoa, Boy. Whoa!” The horse settled quickly enough, and he sighed in relief.

  Christian shoved back to his feet, brushing bracken off his backside as he twisted to look at her.

  She hovered behind him several feet away looking—amused?

  “Are you all right?” Christian asked.

  “Of course I’m all right,” she replied slowly, and then he thought he heard her giggle.

  “You find this funny?” He gave the lapels of his coat a jerk to straighten it.

  Covering her mouth with four fingers, she snickered again. There was no mistaking it this time. The ghost was laughing at him.

  “You have a bit of grass in your hair,” she pointed out with another dainty titter.

  With fingers raking along his scalp, he located the weeds and plucked them loose, then tossed them away.

  “Do you still plan to explore the woods?” she asked.

  His fists landed on his hips. “Well…” He turned to consider the dense foliage flanking the landscape below. “I think I will.” He felt defiant—she was laughing at him! “And should I expect you to wait here for me?”

  That removed her smirk. The ghost peered over his shoulder and then shuddered. Ah, he thought, she is frightened of the woods. The girl proved his musing to be true when she said, “I think perhaps I will return to the castle.”

  “We came out riding to explore together. Will you not tarry longer to see what I discover?”

  Again, she tossed a nervous glance toward the trees. “I think not.”

  “So you’re deserting me?”

  “Deserting you?” She pointed. “I cannot go that way!”

  “You could wait.”

  The ghost was drifting away already.

  “Now why won’t you stay? Nothing can harm you here.”

  She didn’t look convinced and spun away from him, a frown tugging downward at her mouth. Even though he was disappointed to see her go, the fact that she still managed to look adorable when she did that did not escape him.

  “I’m going back,” she said. “You may explore the forest on your own.” Her words sounded like a command, and then he realized something. She did not curtsey as his maid had. In fact, she never curtseyed! A smile curled along his lips. She could very well be high-born. Such manners were trained to the point they were second nature. If this girl were anyone less than noble, she would dip into a lady-like sweep as was expected of her. Yet, never had she done that!

  And he could not blame her for her unpredictable temperament. Indeed, at least she trusted him again, even after his attack on her tender emotions the other night. Which he was still kicking himself for.

  Christian spoke soothing words to his mount as he wedged his foot into the stirrup and swung back into the saddle.

  Steering the horse toward the tangled trees, Christian determined to explore this land while he was here. He set a hand on his gun to reassure himself of safe passage against any highwaymen or ruffians he might encounter, then edged Prince forward.

  The towering firs closed in around him and smothered out the bright light of the sun. The world took on a cast of green as his horse trudged through thick underbrush and other forest plant life. Very little bark was visible around the spongy moss that blanketed the trees.

  Christian was glad he couldn’t actually bring her in here. It was eerie, even for him, and chills defied gravity as they trickled up his spine.

  After exploring what he suspected was a mile or more out, Christian encountered a choking mist that felt more like a wall than a settled cloud. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, voicing a warning to him. Christian knew better than to ignore such feelings, and decided to turn back.

  He redirected his mount and picked up the pace again with a nudge from the heels of his boots. Breathing a sigh of relief as he broke through the foliage and spied his castle, Christian knew his worry of getting lost had been unfounded.

  After a warm and comforting dinner of roasted duck, boiled potatoes, and another slice of apple pie, he settled into bed with a full stomach and a contented sigh.

  Chapter 9

  Dream or Memory?

  She was walking, really walking down a long corridor inside a castle. Not drifting, or hovering. Gravity had its hold and held her comfortably against the floor. The feeling was richly natural and familiar. This place felt familiar.

  Yes, she thought, this is my home.

  Somehow she knew seven doors down, to the right, was her bedchamber. And her parent’s was just across from that. Both chambers looked out upon the grand gardens, which she also knew. She could picture them now even though she could not see them. This is where she came from.

  Rows and rows of stone archways extended before her. Large wooden doors marched along either side. Doors like the one to her bedchamber at that unfamiliar castle. All of them carved with a diamond pattern on the surface, and ornately dressed with hinges curling along the surface. She could feel her slippers sink into the red, woven Persian carpet that stretched along the hallway. She shivered as a draft caused gooseflesh to bloom along the length of her arms and legs, yet that too was familiar.

  The corridor was well-lit, just as she knew it had always been, and it was richly decorated with many gold-framed paintings. She recognized the ornate design of the blazing torches which were mounted between the doors to highlight the artwork. The detail of each painting also rose up within her memory. The one of the English countryside with the little red flowers dotting the hillside was one of her favorites….

  She knew she had a purpose here. She knew she was going somewhere she wanted to go. It was not her bedchamber; though that was the direction she was headed. She puzzled over the where and why of her path as she moved along the hallway, yet remained unable to recall.

  Quite unexpectedly, a heavy hand fell roughly over her mouth as another seized her about the waist and jerked her against a solid form.

  Hot breath rasped against her cheek, and in one swift motion her feet were lifted from the floor and she was hauled unceremoniously into a darkened chamber.

  A whimper was pushed from her lungs when she was shoved, not at all gently, against a wall within the chamber.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dark and the face of her attacker came into focus…yes, she recognized him too. Prince Dominic Renard’s cruel expression was too close for comfort. She shoved on his shoulders. “Let me go,” she heard herself say.

  “Ah, Tessa, do not fight me so.” He leaned against her, smirking with a combination of evilness and victory. She felt his hands shift as he locked her in place with fingers that curled tightly around her arms. She felt the heat from his body seep into hers just as the weight of his muscle-packed frame pinned her in place.

  Again, she said words she knew she’d said before, but did not recall them until she heard them leave her lips, “I will not marry you, Dominic. As I said before present, I refuse your offer.” She tried digging the hard bottom of her slipper into his shin attempting to motivate him to release her, again to no avail.

  “Your parents will demand we marry.”

  “Nay! They will not—”

  “Oh, but they will, my sweet Tessa. You will not be allowed to refuse me this time.”

  “What—?” Her words died on a gasp when he captured her jaw with steel fingers, forced her head to the side, and dropped his face to her neck. She felt his lips close over the skin at the curve at which her neck meets her shoulder
and a stinging, pulling, pinching sensation traumatized the flesh there. Tessa struggled, kicking and pounding her fists against any part of him she could reach. It was like punching stone.

  She cried out. His fingers bit into her arm and then her cheeks as his other hand slid from her jaw to her mouth to quiet her protests. It became difficult to breathe as he smashed her torso to the stone more firmly with his heavy chest. Her fingers clenched around a fistful of his embroidered coat, she pulled and heard the sound of fabric rending.

  As his palm pressed onto her lips, he chuckled and whispered against her flesh, “Such a warm response, sweeting.” His tone dripped with thick sarcasm. “Are you trying to disrobe me already?” Tessa felt moisture from his mouth as he proceeded to further bruise her neck.

  When he released her and stepped away, he laughed, the sound came out as a pompous bellow.

  Just as her fingers flew to her neck to soothe the hurt she was forced to blink against the unexpected glow of light. Long shadows danced across the richly furnished chamber. A woman gasped. And when Tessa saw her face, it seemed she was attempting to hide a sneer. The queen was pleased with this scenario? Tessa tossed that odd idea around within her mind until the queen spoke, “Oh, Contessa, such a foolish maiden. We must demand you wed now.”

  Tessa did not know what to say to that, for she understood quite clearly what they were all about. They meant to trap her, meant to force the wedding her parents had tried so desperately to protect her from. She could admit it was a cunning plan, yet she also knew her parents would continue to support her choice if she refused, no matter what lies were told about her, or how this situation could make it difficult for her to find a new groom.

  Dominic reached toward her and tugged her hand away from his handiwork. “Ah, ’tis a fine one, if I do not say so myself.”

  His mother made no attempt to disguise her sneer now, and his father, the king, who had also entered, was just like an older version of Dominic. Both were handsome men, with a cruel sparkle flashing in their stare, both had black hair and hazel eyes, distinguished features, tall builds and broad shoulders. The only differences were the streaks of white hair growing from the temples of the older man.